


Sway

by 6YearsABrave



Series: Sway [1]
Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2013, Atlanta Braves, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6YearsABrave/pseuds/6YearsABrave
Summary: Medlen is treading heavy water.





	Sway

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my AU where everyone is bi. Courtesy of my imagination.

_He’s a Dodger._

Kris Medlen sat in his locker, alone. It had been so tough through the first month of the season for Medlen without his boyfriend. Peter Moylan had been having trouble staying healthy, and with the arrival of Jordan Walden and the emergence of Luis Avilan and Cory Gearrin in the bullpen, the Braves had finally let the Aussie go.

And little did his teammates know it, but Medlen knew that was the reason for his own struggles as a starter. The sad part was Moylan wasn’t coming back, so nothing could change unless Medlen’s outlook did. He’d only gotten the team one win thus far, and his next start was against the Nationals. His ERA was two runs higher than it was last season. _It’s not right,_ Medlen thought. _Why am I struggling so much without him? Huddy’s doing fine without Rossy._

Medlen sighed, picking up his bag and preparing to go home for the night, when someone behind him said, “Hey.”

Medlen turned around. It was Chris Johnson, who was one of the new Braves in the Martin Prado deal with Arizona. He was very friendly and hardworking, manning third base in Chipper’s absence. 

“Hey,” Medlen replied with another sigh. “What’s up?”

Johnson looked down at him with big, blue eyes, the biggest on the team, and that was saying a lot. “Not much,” Johnson said, his interest piqued. “You alright? You’ve been back here a long time.”

“No – I mean – what? Everything’s fine,” Medlen said quickly with that sarcastic little chuckle. He wasn’t about to go gushing all his feelings and sentiments about Moylan to this newbie, no matter how nice he seemed. Johnson probably had never even heard of Moylan. “How are you?” He said to change the subject.

Johnson looked at him, a little too intently, as if he were trying to read him, maybe even get inside his head. “Fine,” he replied quietly.

Before Johnson could say anything else Medlen said hurriedly, “Well – I gotta go,” and closed his locker, making his way toward the door.

Johnson only followed him with that piercing blue gaze. “See ya,” he said in a low tone as Medlen disappeared out the door. 

 

The day came for Medlen’s next start.

He found himself almost dreading it – even though the Braves had certainly taken care of the Nationals the previous three games.

He’d gotten through the first two innings unscathed, the offense scoring one run for him, but then he ran into trouble in the third. He gave up a leadoff homer and then a ball was hit sharply to third base – to Johnson.

It took a funny hop, and at first, Medlen thought Johnson would at least be able to get it, if not make the out, but the ball jumped up at the last second. It skipped off the base of Johnson’s glove and flew up above his head. He reached out futilely for it but Ryan Zimmerman had already reached base.

It was ruled a hit.

Medlen was surprised at that, and Johnson voiced his displeasure with himself. He stole a glance at Johnson, and felt sorrier for him for a brief moment than he did for himself. It was awkward, since he was the one charged with a hit, but he carried on like nothing had happened and it was a routine play. The Nationals, meanwhile, ended up scoring two more runs that inning.

 

The Braves lost the game, 3-1.

But the hubbub in the clubhouse after the game wasn’t about Medlen – directly – or the loss. It was about Johnson.

Medlen didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but he overheard his teammates chatting about some kind of appeal with Baseball. Medlen didn’t really care what they were talking about and didn’t see hardly anything of Johnson after the game ended. He wasn’t about to go looking for him. He wouldn’t know what to say, anyway. Who cared if the runs were charged to him or not? His ERA was already terrible.

 

Two nights later, after the game, Medlen chucked his jersey back into his locker, having already changed into his t-shirt. He shut it, then turned around.

There was Johnson, just standing there, looking at him expectantly.

“Johnson,” Medlen started, surprised, not knowing what else to say. He suddenly wished he hadn’t already put away his things and that someone else besides just him and the third baseman were in the room.

“Hey Meds,” Johnson said in his soft-spoken little undertone. Medlen really couldn’t say what emotion he heard in his voice, but he knew it was different than any way he’d heard him talk before. “So you know, I, um, lost that appeal.”

“Lost?” Medlen said, staring up into Johnson’s big blue eyes. “The appeal? Oh, you know you didn’t have to-”

“But I wanted to,” Johnson said quickly, putting a hand forward onto the wall behind Medlen’s shoulder, sort of trapping him against it. “I felt like…I had to.”

Medlen’s heart started to beat out of his chest, involuntarily, as a sense of foreboding washed up on him. His hair stood up on end, and he felt every fiber in his t-shirt, and it was all very disconcerting since he knew Johnson wasn’t his boyfriend. _His boyfriend…_

So why did he feel like this all of a sudden?

“You…” Johnson muttered, bringing his other hand up and dragging it across Medlen’s shoulder. “Deserve…” He moved nearer, his voice dropping.

But Johnson couldn’t finish. Evan Gattis popped into the room suddenly, grabbing his things and preparing to leave, and Johnson quickly turned around, removing his hands from near Medlen. “See ya, man,” he said casually.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Evan replied with a smile and little wave, heading for the door, suspecting nothing. _Rookies._

Medlen’s and Johnson’s attention turned back to each other. The instant the door closed behind Evan, Johnson lunged forward toward Medlen, took him forcefully by the shoulders, and without further ado, pushed him back up against the wall and pressed his mouth hard against Medlen’s.

Medlen lost his balance, having no choice but to cling futilely to Johnson’s big, strong frame, but the third baseman held him upright. The sudden warmth and wetness of Johnson’s mouth overwhelmed Medlen, who thought he might faint, as their tongues met and swirled around each other with passion Medlen hadn’t felt in months. His eyes squeezed shut, Medlen thought it would never end until Johnson pulled back, a satisfied look on his face. He grabbed Medlen’s hand authoritatively and Medlen barely had time to grab his bag before he was pulled toward the door.

 

They headed for Johnson’s place, Medlen with no say in the matter. He had nothing to say anyway. Johnson’s mouth had left him speechless. He just went right along with it. _Moylan will never know_ , he told himself over and over.

Johnson opened the door of his apartment, pulling Medlen inside with him. It was a new place not far from downtown that Medlen could tell he was still settling into.

But after Johnson came up behind him after shutting the door and put both his hands around Medlen’s waist he stopped surveying the landscape. His eyes drooped closed.

Johnson breathed onto Medlen’s ear for a moment before whispering, “As I was saying before…you deserve…compensation.” He reached under Medlen’s shirt, his big, smooth hands making their way up to Medlen’s chest.

Medlen reached up behind his shoulders and put both his hands on Johnson’s head. He smoothed the inch-long hair around for a minute, then Johnson removed his hands and helped Medlen pull his shirt off. After they made their way down a hall to Johnson’s bedroom, never taking their hands off each other, Johnson took off the rest of his clothes and eagerly helped Medlen out of his. Medlen never hesitated when Johnson made for him once his shoes were off. He wrapped his arms forcefully around Medlen and kissed him, hard.

They fell onto the bed. Medlen grabbed Johnson wherever he could and Johnson only held him, stroking him all over.

“Johnson,” Medlen tried to say but could only moan at Johnson’s electric touch all over his skin. He had to tell him about Moylan…at some point.

Johnson moved around a lot, his mouth never leaving Medlen’s skin, and eventually he got down lower as Medlen just lay there, awestruck. Medlen grabbed a pillow and moaned into it as Johnson sucked him off. After that Johnson only played around some more, eventually getting around to lubing himself up and doing Medlen once he’d gotten comfortable.

Medlen screamed, not caring if anyone else in the apartment complex might hear. The sensations were unbelievable, more intense than he could ever remember with Moylan. He hoped Johnson would never stop as long as the night went on, still meaning to tell him about his boyfriend but definitely enjoying the ride first.

 

Several hours later, Johnson lay on the bed next to Medlen, still and exhausted. Medlen just stared over at him, getting a warm and protective feeling from him. _Didn’t he also feel this way next to Moylan?_

“Johnson,” Medlen whispered.

Johnson turned over and looked at Medlen, his eyes tired. “Yeah?”

Medlen swallowed, thinking he was risking a lot, but he had to get it out. “I have a boyfriend already,” he blurted quickly.

“What?”

“Peter Moylan. He’s a Dodger.” Medlen’s ashamed gaze fell. He couldn’t look at Johnson’s eyes now. _Please don’t be angry, you’re the one who dragged me here_ , Medlen pleaded in his mind.

But Johnson wasn’t angry at all. “I won’t tell anyone,” he said simply. 

Medlen did a double take, surprised at Johnson’s reaction. “Really?”

“Sure,” he replied. “No problemo.”

“It’s just, I miss him so much, but no one had treated me like you had since he left this past winter.”

Johnson thought for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s why.”

Medlen looked at Johnson as he lay there. “Why what?”

“Why you’re struggling.” Johnson glanced back at Medlen for a second, then removed his gaze. “I could see something was going on with you.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Medlen said with a relieved smile. “Glad you’re a Brave.”

“Yeah,” Johnson said, sighing. “Me too.” He turned over and went to sleep.

 

A couple of weeks later, the Dodgers came to Atlanta – and Peter Moylan with them. Medlen met up with his boyfriend the first chance he got.

They had stared at each other for a moment, then went for each other like an unstoppable force. Moylan scooped Medlen up in his big, strong, tattooed arms and spun around with him.

Medlen laughed. “Moylan!”

“Oh, Meds,” Moylan said. “I missed you so much.” He stopped and kissed Medlen’s nose. “Stop struggling for me, okay?”

Medlen gazed up into his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Your changeup is still nasty.”

Medlen’s cheeks flushed for a second. Nothing could have wiped the grin off his face. “I know.” Chris Johnson never even crossed his mind.

“Now,” Moylan said, “C’m ‘ere.” He drew Medlen close and kissed him.


End file.
